


An Rud is Annamh is Íontach (What’s Rare is Wonderful)

by JMLeeds



Category: The Last Kids on Earth (Cartoon), The Last Kids on Earth Series - Max Brallier
Genre: Gaeilge, Gen, Irish Language, Multi, My First Fanfic, My First Work in This Fandom, Other, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Religion, Still Working on this just too damn tired ATM, Surrogate mother and father figures, Work In Progress, irish gaelic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-18
Updated: 2020-10-20
Packaged: 2021-03-09 02:14:18
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply, Underage
Chapters: 2
Words: 998
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27077080
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JMLeeds/pseuds/JMLeeds
Summary: What if we had an in-depth look to Jack’s backstory on his it all began. Prior to the apocalypse, we’ll get to see how Jack’s life was from the beginning of, during his early years, before foster care, before Parker middle school, and finally, the apocalypse that started it all.WARNING: Ratings and tags will/might change later on. And also angst, tragedy, and tearjerkers coming! Don’t say I didn’t warn you!
Relationships: Brothers from another Mother, Cousin-turned-Older Brother, Cousin/Brother Figure
Comments: 38
Kudos: 26





	1. Sneak Peek of Ch 1:

**Author's Note:**

> Do not fret, I will replace this as soon as I feel that the first chapter is decent. In the meantime, the story WILL come through (hopefully sooner).

The lights above flickered continually, certainly liable to giving one a seizure had it not been for the fact he had his eyes closed the entire time.

He’s been there for what seemed an eternity, nonchalantly appearing as if he was just sitting there. What he was really doing was awaiting the dreaded news that he fears; the news that he was waiting, was associated with his sons and daughter-in-law.

Sitting next to him on the bench was a boy no more than 10 years old. He appeared like his own son but younger and no less mature; though that was about to change. Eventually.

The young lad had fair skin like him and black hair that was raven-like; and vaguely recalled, the first time he saw him upon his arrival there in the hospital, that the boy shared his eyes and not his father’s. They were blue. And glossed over with tears coming down his cheeks.

The old man sighed, feeling the same emotion taking over quickly as his fear returned whenever he looked at that boy. Bringing back the matter at hand or rather at the hands of the doctors that are trying desperately to… to... to...

He shook his head bitterly, not wanting those images in his mind’s eye as it would only make himself feel worse than before. He came on ‘official’ business to see whether or not his grandson would have to go with him if worse comes to worse. God forbid, he can’t have that on his conscious again.

What he was doing there again, was a matter of debate for his grandson. The poor boy felt obligated to stay with him as he felt unsure of around strangers while waiting for his father to come out of surgery and recover at home. The boy’s father, James, was brought alongside his brother and sister-in-law from a serious head-on collision while driving to the hospital for whatever serious reason that in lieu led to them being here altogether.

The old man arrived to work that same morning on the docks to catch more fish to satisfy his pockets with the cash that came with it daily at the markets nearby. That was when he got the call from the hospital unexpectedly; and what he was told on the other line almost gave him a heart attack. Ignoring the managing marketers and confused or worried looks from his shipmates, he jumped in his small semi truck and sped off towards the hospital.

The moment he arrived however hasn’t been as catastrophic as the news they told him once he got into the nurses’ office. Upon hearing the devastating truth that his sons may not survive the accident, he suffered a small cardiac arrest that had doctors trying to provide him with an oxygen tank. Instead he yelled at them to eff off and begone while he wept solely on his own in solemn solitude within the lone ER hallway.

It hasn’t been more than a few hours when he saw two police officers standing in front of him with a young boy behind them. They tell him that he’s his grandson from his eldest son, James. The old man, still distraught with emotion, didn’t acknowledge this at first until the boy sat next to him with tears in his eyes as well.

Upon looking closely at him, the old man could see the resemblance: blue eyes, black hair, and fair colored skin while wearing his father’s signature black fedora that he wore often to concerts at the bars he frequented.

That was the very same hat he himself wore when he first arrived in America during the late 1970’s.

The 1970’s. 1970’s...

...

…

…

…

1970- “Grampa?”

His graying beard bristled a bit as he answered. “Ey?” His voice drawled more than expected, must’ve got mucus stick in his throat again.

Hacking out a hunk of it out and into a tissue he brought with him, the old man turned his eyes back towards him and asked again. Clearly this time.

“Aye?”

The lad looked intimidated for a moment as if asking a question could surely infuriate. Hell, it might if he didn’t ask already because he’s still damn exhausted from his heartache.

“Where’s dad?” That made his breathing freeze in his gullet.

The old man answered as best as he could. “I d-dunno, boyo.” God forgive, why does he have to answer that way?

That answer at all didn’t seem to satisfy him, and obviously, neither did his grandson. He’d neglected to hide his facial expression changing with his ’honest’ opinions; a thing he should’ve realized that could’ve helped his situation shy away even further from making it more depressing. Alas, it did not. His own heart threatened to break loose from its rib chambers if he continued to stay silent and assume the worst in his mind. 

Arguing with himself in his insidious internal conflict; believing his sons could come out worst than before but alive, or just accept the fact that the accident destroyed them so badly that the damn surgeons can’t even repair a single artery underneath their skin.

His mind elsewhere had him not realizing that someone was standing in front of him.

Nudged awake by his grandson, the old man reared his head upwards gingerly to see a nurse staring down at… her feet or him maybe? The moment she looked up and locked eyes with him however had his heart stop. Inside, he saw nothing but defeat and…

“I wish to inform you Mr. Sullivan-“

“ _ **O**_ ’Sullivan t’ yez.” He corrected grumpily. She ignored him.

“Sir, if you’re done being rude. I’d wish to inform of the unfortunate.” She took a deep breath steadily as he stared distantly at her.

“Your sons are dead. I’m sorry…” 

The old man didn’t say a thing. He just stayed still, almost as if he were a statue. Not once moving a muscle.

Finally, a minute later. He collapsed.


	2. Sneak Peek (in first page)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sneak peek in first page

Sneak peek in first page

**Author's Note:**

> So tell me what y’all think, want me to add the full chapter?


End file.
